Behind The Grapple: Robin Mask
by MexMarco
Summary: A spinoff from PoH: Homophobic Helix. Several Chojin close to the masked legend talk about some of his darkest secrets, his wildest adventures and his monumental insanity.
1. Prologue & Neptuneman

**DISCLAIMER:** Ultimate Muscle/Kinnikuman Nisei is not my property. It never will be. And you don't want me to own it either. Trust me!

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** …I have no idea why I started to write this thing. It just sort of popped out of my mind and spilled onto Word.

It's worth noting that any part of the story included between "brackets" is a flashback, and the italicized words are those of the narrator of said flashback. Keep that in mind, please. You can also review if you wish.

Just remember that Quarrelman is Neptuneman unmasked too!

Let's get this started!

**Behind The Grapple: Robin Mask**_ by MexMarco!_**  
Chapter 1: Prologue and Neptuneman's Tale **

Sundry pictures depicting violent matches are shown; all of them are having two common characteristics that seem to act as a signature of some kind: They all depict insane amounts of blood and the presence of a muscular, heavyweight, armor-clad stalwart that is breathtaking just to look at. Wearing his trademark knight's helmet and showing off his fiery ruby eyes, this man is known to most fans of Chojin Wrestling as Robin Mask. Specifically, the slideshow of brutal vintage imagery recalls some of his greatest matches against the Hell Missionaries, Parthenon, Kinnikuman Mariposa, Kinnikuman Zebra, Atlantis, Junkman and Kinnikuman himself. A narrator starts speaking with a baritone voice.

"For the past thirty years, the name of Robin Mask has become a legend, a synonym of might, honor, intelligence and…"

There is a zoom focusing on Robin's ass.

"Aluminum trousers."

"But at his prime, life was not simply winning streaks, spectacular comebacks and finishing moves as fancy as their name for the British Choujin. Like all icons, like all men tempted at one time by the seeds of fame and stardom, the violent noble had to fight personal demons of his own."

"On account of all the lives he has touched, this is his story."

The slideshow fades out, replaced by the hulking figure of Neptuneman sitting comfortably on a chair, right in front of a green screen. Besides his trademark wild blonde hair and outrageous moustache, the Hell Missionary is decked in quite the casual attire, consisting of blue denim jeans and a black, snug-fitting Sex Pistols t-shirt.

"So… You know. I'm a Perfect Chojin, right? I get to see the most insane shit since I'm usually the one responsible for it. But this…" Neptuneman breaks into a light snicker. "Alright. So there was this cat who just had his ass handed to him by Kinnikuman, of all people. By a _fucking Mexican clutch hold_. It was all pretty tragic, but back then I had known Robin for quite some time already; thus I kind of figured out, thinking to myself… He'll get over it! He's just going to do some push-ups, get shitfaced and then make a comeback of some kind."

Neptuneman makes a pause and then deadpans, "Wrong."

* * *

Neptuneman, in his former Kenkaman/Quarrelman persona, is waiting inside a locker room. It seems to have all the commodities needed for Chojin at first glance: A soft drink machine, benches, light dumbbells perfect for warm-ups, a hallway leading into the shower room and well… lockers. Quarrelman strokes his moustache and tugs lightly at the straps of his leotard, apparently waiting for someone. He constantly checks his wristwatch. 

_I remember it was probably eight months past the 20th Chojin Olympics. Even though by that time I was still more of an underground/independent talent, Robin had found me and needed to talk about his comeback with someone. Since we're both from the same country and everything, I said… "Why not?" Thus I met him after finishing a match with this pussy called Phoenixman (who would turn out to be Kin Super Phoenix in the future), and eventually he started talking to me about this new… character he had prepared, you know? He wanted to show me the new attire he had planned, and had me waiting in the locker rooms for about twenty minutes to put the damned thing on. From that point, I knew serious shit was going down._

"Check this out, Quarrelman-baby."

_….Heh. Yeah. The first thing that came to mind was: "Did this wanker just call me 'baby'? What the hell is going on?" Of course, I didn't have that much time to think about it, because then Robin came in with his… I like to call it the Rocky Horror Show cosplay._

The blonde Chojin's eyes widen until they become the size of dollar coins the minute Robin comes back in.

Or rather, The Barracuda.

Wearing the lewdest of smiles on his lips, Barracuda starts swaying his waist and dancing in an outrageously flamboyant fashion, tugging at the ruffles of his new costume. Quarrelman continues wearing an expression like he had just seen a box of kittens being German suplexed, but it gets worse when Barracuda rests a hand on his hip and begins cracking his whip.

"Yeah, baby. Crack ya whip! Crack, crack, crack! Dance like you loves it, honey!"

"I said WHIP IT! Whip it GOOD!"

And then poor Quarrelman looks like he's suffering a stroke. Eventually, he gathers enough courage to let some profanities rain on the new Robin and storms out of the locker room. Of course, he also takes some time to flip the bird at him. Twice.

_The poor bastard had already lost his mind! I knew I wasn't going to stand another minute of that shit, which, to tell you the truth, I thought was a prank of some kind. That was until I saw him at the next Olympics. I mean… he looked like PRINCE! Of all people! And this was just a couple of years before Purple Rain started to hit radios worldwide. That's pretty fucking eerie, right there._

* * *

"How could you describe the Barracuda's attire, back then? Was it any different from the one seen at the 21st Chojin Olympics?"

A picture of the Barracuda holding his whip is shown. The screen switches back to Neptuneman, who is grinning. He adjusts his mask.

"How the hell would I be able to tell? All I know is that, in either case, if there was a contest to determine what Chojin looked the most like a bitch, he'd take the gold. I'm serious!"

The interviewer and studio crew laugh silently. It dies down in less than five seconds.

"So… you sound like this incident made you feel insulted, even though you're laughing now. What did you do then?"

"Nothing. I'm a man who holds no grudges, you know…"Neptuneman takes a deep breath and intones. "So I just teamed up with Big The Budo and Cross Bomber'd his ass to hell like it was nobody's business two years later."

Another fit of laughter ensues in the studio, this time longer than the previous. The interviewer, who has been off-screen all the time, clears his throat and calms down.

"Yet this wasn't the only incident you and Robin Mask had."

"That's right, mack." The Perfect Chojin smirks.

* * *

_I'm not sure if you guys know, but one of the reasons Robin was so crazy in matches was because he hit the recreational drugs. He hit them hard, you know? Like nobody's business. I guess it comes to a point in any celebrity's life where they are at least offered the chance to try some of this shit._

_I was on that end of the bargain with my man Robin. He was kind of like the bad influence for me, believe or not. First he started with… you know, pills. Amphetamines._

Robin stands in front of Quarrelman at the same locking room previously depicted. He seems to be hyperactive beyond reason, bouncing on his feet while holding a translucent orange tube in his hands.

"I feel like I'm flying, man!" He starts singing. "Gonna flyyyyyyyyyyyy now!!!!!"

He stretches his arms out to his sides and starts spinning.

"But, uh… Robin. We're Chojin. It's what we do. We fly. We tear shit apart." Neptune ruffles his hair quizzically, making the noble Chojin stop dead on his tracks.

"…Really?" Robin asks groggily, staggering a bit and trying his best to remain on his feet.

"THIS SHIT IS SO AWESOME! EVERYONE'S HAVING IT! Gonna flyyyyyyyy now, bitch!! GONNA FLY NOW!!" The drugged Robin exclaims euphorically, breaking into a fit of mad giggles and "flying" some more, eventually crumbling under his own weight and face planting at Quarrelman's feet. The other Chojin, being a close friend of his…

…leaves his ass there and runs.

_Following that, Robin survived and went through this stage I like to call his "Back to Nature" era._

It is a dark room, yet somehow, the dancing patterns of a peculiar kind of smoke are seen everywhere. Robin's eyes look lost and have an emerald tint, instead of their usual red glow. He exhales a thick puff of smoke from underneath his mask and giggles, holding a neatly rolled and partially hit joint of marijuana in his fingers.

"Yo… this thing here is a trip. I'm watching all kinds of fucked up colors now. Ooooh…" Robin tries to hold his head still, but in groggily sways in circles. All of a sudden and rather randomly he exclaims, "Rainbow Bridge Suplex!!!!"

Quarrelman, who is sitting next to Robin, giggles madly… and exhales some pot smoke of his own. "That's the gayest name for a move ever."

_Hey. Pot is awesome. Don't give me that look._

"Yeh. Nobody's gonna use it… like… ever." Robin states with a weak voice, laughing a bit. "…Are we high?"

"Very."

Both Chojins laugh obnoxiously. It takes them about a minute of sore cheekbones and absurdly loud cackles to relax. After having calmed down, Quarrelman smirks and holds Robin's head still, by the temples.

"Hey, man… Look at me. Do I have bloodshot eyes right now?" He inquires groggily.

"I d'no. Did you stop at the 7-Eleven like I asked you to?" Robin replies with a similar tone of voice. "I wanted my Doritos too, bitch!!"

The obnoxiously laughter from before resumes, this time with far more intensity than before. However, this time the episode concludes with Quarrelman's eyes going entirely white and his body slumping forward like dead weight, thus passing out. Robin carelessly lowers his gaze to look at the knocked out Chojin.

"Quarrelman, bro… You okay?"

_And let it be known that was the only time I got familiar with Robin like that! Of course, he tried to hook me up with some heavier shit._

"This, Quarrelman… is a cosmic Newtonian transreceiver. It feeds with the Earth's electromagnetic fields, extrapolating its frequencies to near non-Euclidean heights and powers your cells with the might of King Mayonnaise. You just put your mouth… here… and you become Eric Idle. You know… the guy playing the piano naked in Meaning of Life?" Robin states while in a heavy daze, pointing to an end of the shiny object being held in his hand. Then he mimics playing a piano. "Doot doot doot!!!"

"I think that thing your holding is an aluminum pipe. Not a… whatever it was." Quarrelman says with a mixture of amusement and nervousness.

"Don't prove me wrong! Just smoke, bitch!"

_Like PCP._

Robin spins around on his feet, wearing nothing else but his knight helmet.

"The fuckin' devil's dandruff is invading my brain, man!!!!" Robin clutches at his helmt. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!"

_Cocaine._

Robin is urinating against a wall riddled with graffiti. He seems to be staring down at his penis.

"When I go pee-pee… it hurts my wee-wee…" The Chojin whimpers, eventually interjecting with a chipper tone. "I wonder what the Duchess of Fuckingham would say about this!!! Hahahahah!!!"

_And yeah. Sometimes cheapo shit like beer and booze. But most of all…_

Robin reaches out a large white porcelain bowl towards Quarrelman, his other hand holding a pair of chopsticks. The contents of the bowl seem to be colorful and awfully familiar.

"Part of a complete breakfast, motherfucker!!!!" He exclaims, clacking his chopsticks.

_Fruit Loops.  
_

* * *

"Fruit Loops." 

Neptuneman repeats himself with slight disbelief. "You wish I was making this shit up but I am certainly not!" Thus he starts laughing loud and hearty, joined by the crew of the studio. "I don't know what was up with that shit, but he had like… three bowls of that thing daily. It's like Kinnikuman and his cow and rice. You just don't see Robin going about it so openly."

* * *

Robin does a pseudo-Fruit Loops dance!!

* * *

The Perfect Chojin, who has apparently seen this, is unable to hold out anymore and lifts his mask off, laughing hysterically. Tears seem to have welled up in his eyes due to the laughter. He wipes them off and apparently calms down, putting on his mask again. "Aw, lord… I'm telling you. Of all the Chojins I've met in my entire life… he was a fucking nutcase."

Neptuneman looks at the interviewer off-screen quizzically. "Who else are you having over for this… program thingy?"

"We're planning to have Terryman for our next segment."

"Terryman." The blonde superman repeats the interviewer's words with disbelief, burying his face in his hands and poorly stifling a laugh that is all too evident, mostly because of the exuberance with which his broad shoulders shake. He sits straight after a while and sighs in an ominous way.

"I hope you guys know what you're getting into." Neptuneman grins.

The interviewer laughs softly and professionally announces a commercial break

* * *

Next Chapter: Terryman!!

_So not only does this sumbitch come into my house, disrespect my wife and punches holes in the walls of my home with that… stupid spike on that helmet of his…_

In the kitchen of the Kenyon household (which already seems a disaster), Robin and Terryman grapple angrily on the ground, covered entirely in what seems to be chilli beans. This insane struggle goes on until the British Chojin puts Terryman on a single leg Boston crab and rips off the Texan's prosthetic leg. The masked man then looks at the disembodied appendage with fright and amazement.

_…He took off with my leg._

Wasting no time, he stands up from the ground, smacks Terryman on the chest and the head several times. Quickly, he reaches out for something in a keyrack next to the kitchen's door and exits to the front lawn.

In due time, heavy engine noises are heard.

…_and with my truck._

"Honk, honk, bitches!!!" The claxon of a big truck is heard outside. Natsuko, who had been there at the kitchen to witness the whole debacle, looks out the window in fright as Robin parks right across the kitchen, outside in the Kenyon's lawn. The British Chojin punches the truck's steering wheel repeatedly, causing the claxon to resound even more. "A-honky-tonk-tonk, you chilli having motherfuckers! A-honka-tonk-tonk! Hahaha!!" Followed by this, he sings the first whole stanza of Willie Nelson's "Poncho and Lefty".

**Catch you soon with Chapter 2, people!  
**


	2. Terryman

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Kinnikuman Nisei/Ultimate Muscle. This fic is the reason why.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** This is probably the most insane politically incorrect piece I've written in a very long time. I had a good time with it! Just pay close attention to the parodies and pop culture references depicted herein and you'll probably have a laugh as jolly as mine when I came up with this thing.

Gotta focus on the next Sonata for the Fallen chapter now!

**Behind The Grapple: Robin Mask****  
Chapter 2: ****Terryman**

_"Robin Mask, despite his alleged drug addictions and apparent lust for Fruit Loops, had become an icon for Justice __Chojin__ everywhere. With his towering power, undoubted charisma and technical wrestling expertise, he had managed to touch the lives of many a superman, inspiring them not to follow his footsteps, but to take his hard work and dedication as a role model."_

_"One such superman was __Terryman__ Kenyon."_

"That man, pardon mah French, is the biggest dick I've known in mah entire life."

The people off-screen break into a soft laugh. Terryman offers them a glance and smirks at their reaction. Currently, the Texan superman is wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, a prominent belt buckle, cowboy boots and, of course, an expensive looking cowboy hat; however, unlike Neptune Man, the Chojin veteran is standing up and seems to refuse taking a seat.

"Lemme put it this way." Terryman coughs. "Remember that fight ah had with 'im in the 20th Olympics? Back then, ah reckon ah wasn't so hot when it came ta wrasslin', and when it was my turn ta fight this knight-like giant, ah got scared shitless, y'know? Ah had to cheat and pull brass knuckles outta mah trunks to whip 'im."

An old yet visibly remastered taping of the first seconds of Terryman vs. Robin Mask proves the Texan's story. He slips some brass knuckles out of his trunks and brutally wails on the British hero's face.

"Brass knuckles!! And ah still didn't beat 'im!" Terryman shakes his fists at the interviewer energetically, as if trying to imbue him with the same disbelief he's experiencing. "Ah felt awful doin' that, yeh. Ah mean… Ah was… Ah _am_ a Justice Chojin, for Pete's sake; it just happens that when yer young, ya kinna use all the tricks ya got without mindin' much on how I'ss gonna make ya feel later."

"Well. Ah felt like shit. Utter utter shit." The Texan scratches his right eyelid.

"But then you befriended him, right? Robin."

"Oh. Yah. Tha'ss true." Terryman strokes his chin, reminiscing. "At first ah talked to him to apologize for that thing in the Olympics, y'know? An' then we just kinna started seein' each other often, goin' out for drinks, sayin' 'hi' to each other every time we were at the locker room. T'was all good, till I met 'im. The real Robin Mask."

"Heh. And meeting this real Robin… How did it make you feel?"

The legend becomes suddenly quiet, that smirk of his suddenly disappearing from his lips. He takes a deep breath and thinks his next words through another time.

"It made me feel like ah should've skewered his uptight British ass with a blazin' cattle prod instead of just juicin' 'im like ah did." Terryman seems completely serious and devoid of any amusement, but that is not the case of the interviewer, whose laughter is a little bit more audible than before.

"So…" The interviewer makes a brief pause to calm down. "…How did you meet this real Robin Mask?"

"Long story." The Chojin quirks his bald brow and begins his tale.

* * *

Terryman is in a shower room by himself. Judging by the state of his moist skin and the towel wrapped around his waist, he had just taken a shower. He takes another towel to dry off his hair and walks into the locker room, greeted by quite the grizzly sight. Just a few feet across him, an entirely naked Robin Mask stands nonchalantly, scratching his groin and some other less obscene areas of his body. This continues until it becomes incessantly frantic. 

_So uh…__ There was Robin Mask. __Naked.__ And he was scratching himself like hell. I __figgered__ he __prolly__ had herpes or something. __S'always__ herpes._

"Terryman. I have herpes." Robin intones.

"…Yeah. No shit." Terryman stares at the knight Chojin a few seconds, finally reacting to shield his eyes. "You know how you could fix that? Put a towel on!! Put a goddamn fucking towel on!!" The Texan seems to freak out, entering a homophobic fit that ends with him flinging the towel slung around his shoulders at his partner. "There. Towel. Waist. Knot. NOW."

Robin makes a face underneath his helmet and finally complies to Terryman's request, not before uttering a quick "Pussy…". He scratches for another ten seconds until something strikes the noble warrior's mind, making him nod to himself a few times before shifting his attention to the southerner (and away from the nasty boils on his skin).

"Say, Terryman…"

Terryman feels comfortable enough to look at Robin once more, though he does so quizzically. "Whassa matter?"

"I…" Robin rubs the mouthpiece of his helmet and makes an amused noise. "I've always wanted to have a try at your wife's pork."

* * *

Terryman looks away from the interviewer, evidently embarrassed. He sighs and ends up laughing. He shakes his head and takes off his hat momentarily to scratch his hair. "I know what you guys are thinking. Pork." 

The interviewer laughs soundly while Terryman continues to battle his embarrassment.

"Listen. ah come from Texas! Most of us over there don't even know what innuendo or double entendre mean! How was ah supposed to know, youngen that ah was, that he was talking about fucking my wife!!!"

He makes a pause.

"Innuendo and double entendre. Damn weird German words." He coughs. "Anyhow. Thing is… back then, why would I say no to him? He was a friend an' all. It's just that I should have noticed he started doin' pelvic thrusts right after told 'im it was alrite for him to come and have dinner with us."

The Texan superhero sighs embarrassedly again. "Goddamn."

* * *

_So ah told him to come on… __Friday, __yeh__Tryin__' __t'be__ friendly and everything, I asked __Natsuko__ to really put some effort in that __cookin__' while I tried to find a way to __git__ Robin home. Ah couldn't really afford a plane, but ah could just pick '__im__ up at the airport or whatever._

_Turns out ah didn't need to._

"Fly."

It is the cabin of a private jet or a similar aircraft. The two pilots are dressed properly for the job, but their faces seem to be beading with sweat while a certain British Chojin stands right behind them, arms crossed ominously over his chest.

"Whoa! This must be some one of those supersonic planes! I didn't even notice when we took off and finally landed outside Terryman's house!"

One of the pilots gulps and raises a trembling hand. "…We haven't taken off yet, s-sir."

Robin shoots the coldest glare his ruby eyes can offer. "I know, Captain Smartass. I think that's because you haven't even turned the fucking engine on!"

A chill runs down the spine of both pilots. "But… but… This is Stevie Roy Vaughan's plane! Can't you at least wait for him?! I'm sure that once you talk to him, things will get sorted out and he'll be able to give you a lift… we're headed towards Austin anyway!"

"I wanna go now, motherfucker! Stevie Roy can get his ass fried on a large BBQ grill for all I goddamned care… plus now that he's 'clean'," Robin draws quotations marks in the air in a very pejorative manner. "I'm sure that everything will be alright once I send him a postcard or some crap like that. Just take off!"

The other pilot coughs. "Uh… but if we leave, Mr. Vaughan will probably have to leave with Eric Clayton's sound crew! I heard they might not have extra space in their chopper and that their pilot is a retard!"

"I bet they are bitches too… but tough shit!" Robin retorts quickly, somehow sneaking a hand into his steel manpanties to scratch himself. "…Damn, stupid boils."

"B-but sir!! We can't let you!!"

A loud, wet and disgusting noise is heard an instant later when Robin Mask literally slams his face against the co-pilot's skull, making it explode in a splattering and insane display of not-so-tastefully depicted gore. Even the contours of the knight's mask's front seem to be etched into what's left of the poor man's face.

Meanwhile, Robin takes a deep breath and, with his mask almost entirely a crimson red, he whispers menacingly at the pilot.

"Permission granted, Maverick… We are ready… for take off…!!!"

The pilot's shocked response comes as a very loud "FUCK!!!".

Instants later, the plane's engine has started. Robin, being the superman that he is, only holds on to both the pilot and co-pilot seats while the jet takes off. The nobleman then resumes scratching himself and looks at the remains of the co-pilot. "Haha! That's alright. I'm sure he'll be back in a few months." A quick laugh. "Pros of being a Chojin!"

"…He wasn't a Chojin, sir. I think he was very uhm.. normal."

Robin stares at the pilot with obvious and very evident disbelief. He whistles. "Shit."

"Wait! I got an idea. You got some dirty gloves on you, bitch?"

**Later…**

In the middle of a Texan desert, riddled with the common folkloric icons such as cacti, tornados and barns seen in the distance, a terrible plane crash has taken place. Among the wreckage, brimstone and smoke, the initials "SRV" are seen clearly emblazoned on what once was the side of a private jet; however, scrapped metal cries and writhes as some of the debris is easily knocked off, revealing a still alive Robin Mask scratching his pubes. He shields his eyes to survey his immediate surroundings.

"Shit… This doesn't look like Terryman's house. Ah well. Gotta jog!" And so does the superhuman noble, taking a briefcase with him and changing on the way. He's apparently about to get fitted with a very cowboyesque attire.

"…I guess I'm going to need some fuel too." He adds, pulling out an odd looking pipe.

_An' then he came to our house. He was pretty dang early, tell __ya__ what… but he was looking __sorta__ weird. __Kinda__… uh… happy._

Terryman is patiently waiting in the living room of his modest house, watching the news with a serious expression when a knock is heard on the door. He stands up and opens the door, welcoming Robin Mask. Judging by the color of his eyes, he doesn't seem to be that healthy at the moment.

"Hey! Am I early?" Robin asks, staggering lightly.

"…Not really, no." Terryman smiles at the Britishman and lets him in, closing the door and walking him to the living room. Robin looks at the TV and, interested by what is being shown in it, flumps on the nearest couch he can find.

"…The hell's going on?"

"You don't know? Stevie Roy Vaughan's dead. The chopper he was in crashed. A pity, huh?"

Robin blinks a few times and shrugs. "Tough shit! Hahaha!"

Terryman then gives Robin a curious glance. "What's the matter with you, Rob? You seem sorta… weird today. Kinna sick."

"Bullshit." Robin burps, emitting a cloud of blue smoke from underneath his helmet. "…Don't mind that."

The Texan cocks an eyebrow at this and slowly makes his way back to his chair.

_After that we didn't do much, __y'know__? Just talk about things. __Random things._

"Terryman? I have herpes." Robin states with a worried tone, scratching himself.

"…Yeah."

An awkward silence settles between the two. Robin breaks it.

"So… when are we having Natsuko's pork? I hope she likes sharing."

"Er…" Terryman rubs his chin and stands up, motioning towards Robin. "Why don't we go to the kitchen?"

Both Chojin walk to the kitchen which, unlike the rest of the house, happens to be equipped with the latest technology and then some; Natsuko is waiting there, merrily tasting the contents of a large pan set on the stove. She smacks her lips twice and makes a face, quickly reaching out to a shelf full of spices. In due time, she also turns around to greet both her husband and his friend.

"Hey there! I hope you guys are ready. This is almost done!" She chimes with a grin, offering the two Chojin one of her trademark winks from her journalist days.

Terryman chuckles and nods, but Robin ignores this gesture of Natsuko's and turns around to face one of the house's wooden walls. The noble stares idly at it for what seems an eternity, going as far as calling the attention of the Kenyons; however, before any of them can wonder what's going on or utter a word of worry, Robin Mask flings himself spike-first against the wall across him, creating a dry metallic noise that seems to rattle the house to its foundations. Oddly enough, the British Chojin remains stuck to a wall in a completely stiff position.

Moments later, Robin detaches himself from the wall, leaving a clean circle-shaped hole in it before repeating his previous stunt, this time with more ferocity.

_Then ah knew __somethin__' was wrong._

"…What the fuck are you doing?!" Terryman inquires angrily.

Robin, while still latched into the wooden wall, turns to face the Texan. "I'm playing darts."

"What?!"

"I'm playing darts!"

"…On my wall?!"

"And with my spike." Robin points to the top of his head, still stuck in the wall.

"Idiot! You're going to tear the house down!" Terryman finally snaps out of his shock and tries to pull Robin off the wall, but the latter struggles tenaciously.

"Hey! Leggo off me! I never agreed to do a reach-around with you! Plus I gotta do something while Natsuko is getting ready!"

The Texan superman can only look at his partner with disgust, letting go for a moment. "…What the hell did you just say?"

"Yeah! We have sex with your wife, watch the ball game and eat Cheetos… with no reach-arounds!" Robin uses his arms to push his weight against the wall and finally break his spike loose with a loud thunk.

Both Natsuko and Terryman now exchange shocked glares, following by the sound of rocks grinding savagely against each other in a frenzy of unstoppable anger. Or at least that's the best way to describe the sound Terryman Kenyon's teeth make.

_See… __Seigi__ Choujin? __We's__ odd fellows. Whenever we're __gonna__ whip someone, we have to make it clear why we're __doin__' it, and have some out-of-body experience where we recall how our friends got __whupped__ mighty __bad__ too. They call it a flashback, yeah? So, after all that, only UNTIL THEN, we can go to town on somebody's ass. __I'ss__ like a manifesto no one ever signed but agrees to follow._

_That minute?__Nah.__ I __kinda__fastforwarded__ the tape and moved to the good bits._

"CALF BRANDING!!!"

Before Robin can realize it, a fast blue and golden blur whirrs past him, catches him by the chin and viciously slams his face into a nearby wooden table. Broken porcelain dishes, forks and spoons fly in a twister of chaos, raining upon the downed body of Robin Mask. Natsuko's heart skips a beat while looking at her infuriated husband struggling to breathe.

"How'd ya like that?! HUH?! See if ya ever try to diss my wife like that again!!" Terryman pants. "Bitch!"

The Texan's breathing seems to start calming down while he stares down at the fallen Englishman when all of a sudden, Robin Mask sits on the ground with one eerie movement that'd induce the Undertaker a heart attack. Terryman takes a wary step backwards while Natsuko shrieks and stands behind her husband.

"I came here. To Texas. TEXAS." Robin grunts like a wild animal, brushing porcelain shards off his cowboy shirt and knight helmet. "…Cradle of the rednecks. For what?! Just so I could have a good sexy time! But you lied to me, Terryman!" He points to the Texan. "You lying piece of white trash, bastard thing, you! BRACE YOURSELF!"

And thus, with a feral lunge of Robin Mask begins one epic battle that no one will ever keep a record of. Straights, hooks, uppercuts, bodyblows, kicks are exchanged at a speed so fast and with a level of violence so high that it no longer resembles a Chojin fight. It is instead the clash of an angry husband and an intoxicated pervert.

Nevertheless, the colossal brawl takes a tragic turn when, unable to bring his guard up in time, Robin Mask is tagged by a Texas left straight that sends him flying hopelessly against the Kenyon's white stove. The impact rattles the large cauldron on it and knocks it over, spilling its boiling hot contents over the physique of one noble Chojin. His brain registers the pain quite quickly.

"I'M BURNING WITH CHILLI! THE CHILLI IS BURNING ME, TERRYMAN! IT BURNS, TERRYMAN!" He shouts angrily as he rolls on the floor, writhing in pain and muttering unintelligible insults against Terryman. The Texan wanted to use this chance to finish the fight with a spinning toe hold, but the cunning intoxicated Chojin predicts this and uses the strength in his legs to toss his foe onto the puddle of chilli.

Now they are both screaming from the intense pain, hot Texan-style chilli sizzling as it eats through fabric and devours flesh like a nameless plague; but furthermore, even in the relapse of their condition, they continue to grapple viciously on the ground while Natsuko can only be a witness of the carnage.

_Yeh__ We __was__ both on the ground, trying to best each other like hell. Even though the man was high… he got the moves. The fact that we __was__ suffering some high-ass burns didn't help matters either. But then things got crazier._

_Crazier.__ Yes._

_So not only does this __sumbitch__ come into my house, disrespect my wife and punches holes in the walls of my home with that… stupid spike on that helmet of his…_

In the ravaged battlefield that once was the Kenyons' kitchen, Robin and Terryman grapple angrily on the ground, covered entirely in a lethal puddle of chilli beans. This insane struggle goes on until the British Chojin puts Terryman on a single leg Boston crab and rips off the Texan's prosthetic leg. The masked man then looks at the disembodied appendage with fright and amazement, even breathing a gasp.

_…He took off with my leg._

Wasting no time, he stands up from the ground, smacks Terryman on the chest and the head several times with his own fake leg. He quickly reaches out for something in a keyrack next to the kitchen's door and exits to the front lawn.

In due time, heavy engine noises are heard.

…_and with my truck._

"Honk, honk, bitches!!!" The claxon of a big truck is heard outside. Natsuko, who had been there at the kitchen to witness the whole debacle, looks out the window in fright as Robin parks right across the kitchen, outside in the Kenyon's lawn. The British Chojin punches the truck's steering wheel repeatedly, causing the claxon to resound even more. "A-honky-tonk-tonk, you chilli having motherfuckers! A-honka-tonk-tonk! Hahaha!!" Followed by this, he sings the first whole stanza of Willie Nelson's "Poncho and Lefty".

_Yes! There was this bitch trying to steal a truck I hadn't even finished paying yet, and __singin__' one of __mah__ favorite songs at that. I was thinking… '__fuck__, he's __gonna__ take off'. Insurance's __gonna__ be a nightmare. But then, you know what? It hit me. __Like lightning.__Whapow_

Robin apparently struggles with something in the truck. The gas. He technically smashes his foot onto it and gets no results except for the sound of a revving engine and the rocking of locked tires. "What?!"

_Robin Mask didn't know how to drive a standard transmission._

"Grah! What the hell is this?! You piss-poor redneck white trash bitches! Get a real car!!" Robin shouts angrily stomping viciously on the gas again. "Fuck your truck, Terryman!! Fuck your truck!! You're better off driving a car from the Flinstones!! Fuck you-AAAAAAAGH!!!"

The engine suddenly bursts with titanic automotive power, thrusting the powerful machine forward like a monster of steel, rubber and a killer wax finish.

_Y'know__… I thought I had seen anything that day, but then all of a sudden my truck reacted to '__im__ and it went to shit._

The truck somehow finds a way to have a frontal collision with the small humble toolshed found not too far away from the house, ramming into it and obliterating it entirely, sending splinters, wrenches and many other things flying. Somehow, the structure was able to halt the truck's stampede.

_I know we live in a world where anything can happen. Shit. I'm a __superwrestler__! I'm American and for some reason I have a Japanese character on my forehead! So what?! __But that… that was something else, brother._

Like the spectacle of a Friday evening horror flick, Robin Mask kicks the door of the truck's wreckage open to reveal that, due to some unknown and certainly impossible circumstance, his whole body has caught fire despite the truck being mostly alright.

"I'm burning, Terryman!!! I'm burning!! AAAAAAH!!!!!!!!" The noble flails, trying to extinguish the flames to no avail.

* * *

Terryman rubs at his chin and looks off-camera at the interviewer. "You don't believe me, do you? Ask him! For some reason he takes pride talking about that crap he pulled on me. He'll tell you he was a walking Olympic torch, him." 

The interviewer clears his throat. "…Why did he catch fire?"

The Texan looks at the interviewer with a most serious expression, seeming almost sagelike and overtly wise.

"I have no idea."

* * *

_By that point I just didn't care. I __had __Natsuko__ go upstairs to our bedroom while I kept watch on what was left of Robin. By then, he was so out cold I even managed to browse through what was left of my poor pick-up truck and got my fake leg bag. This went on till early in the evening, 'round sunset, when I decided to just leave the guy there and phone his wife to come pick him up._

Terryman looks outside at the charred remains of what was once Robin Mask and, after a long sigh, turns around to go and check on his wife. It is then that a large metallic projectile is tossed at him at an inhuman speed, nearly knocking the daylights out of him.

He reflexively looks out the now broken window to meet the wildest sight of that day.

"Fuck your truck, Terryman!!! Fuck… ugh…" A maskless English Choujin shouts furiously at the Texan, shaking a fist and collapsing seconds after managing to stand back up. He finally passes out, but Terryman is too busy rubbing the back of his head and staring in awe at this insanity-driven feat to notice. A quick glance around the kitchen reveals he has been hit by Robin's helmet.

* * *

"That is the real Robin Mask!! Do you hear me?! He threatens you with bangin' yer wife, destroying your house, assaulting your fridge and all that! And when you're not looking, the bitch takes cheap shots at you! He hit me with his fucking helmet, man! Look!" Terryman angrily takes off his cowboy hat and turns around to show a circle shaped scar on his neck. "See it?!" 

Even though the Texan is infuriated, sundry laughter is heard in the studio; thus, instead of just waiting for the laughs to die out, the interview is cut briefly.

The interviewer seems more relaxed now, although he still seems amused. "So… what happened after that? Did he just get back to his mansion in London on foot? Did he fly back using his powers?"

"None of that. I called 911." Terryman rubs his nosebridge.

"Ah. The ambulance must have had a field day with him."

"The ambulance?! Ha!" The Texan shakes his head vigorously. "I called the police so they would get his ass offa mah property!"

The fits of laughter start again and continue even after the interviewer poorly announces another commercial break, leaving a royally pissed Terryman glaring at all the people in the studio.

* * *

**NEXT CHAPTER: WARSMAN!!!**

_The way Robin tells the story… just after he whipped me, I just curled into a ball and started crying like a bitch._

_Uhuh._

"Bitch! I said make me a sandwich!" Robin shouts at Warsman, clad in his Barracuda costume while whipping the Russian Chojin, who happened to be enjoying a poetry book.

"That's goddamn it." Warsman stands up from the couch he was in, tosses the book he was reading aside and lunges towards his "master". "Come here!"

"Whu? AAAAAAAAAH!!"

A long silence, followed by a tremendous crackling noise.

"YOU BROKE MY ARMS, WARSMAN!!! AAAAAAAH!!!"


End file.
